


Snowbound.

by springburn



Category: The Thick of It.
Genre: Bad Weather, Comfort, F/M, Fear, Feels, Holiday, Love, Romance, beginning relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-15 13:52:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5787655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/springburn/pseuds/springburn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Malcolm has asked Sam to spend a weekend away......it doesn't go quite as planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Snowbound

**Author's Note:**

> This was a great prompt from @jenthewiscofangirl on tumblr. Thank you!! 
> 
> "How about Malcolm and family dealing with the cold weather?" 
> 
> I've adapted it slightly because I wanted to explore another AU for Malcolm. I like to write as many different situations as possible and this is a new one for me. 
> 
> Sam works for Malcolm. They are not together as a couple......until the Christmas party. I've not written this Malcolm before, and this story isn't connected to any previous ones. This Malcolm is lonely and unsure of himself, and......well.....I'll let you read it!!

SNOWBOUND. 

 

The car crunched and slithered to a halt.  
It gave a cough.....and died. 

Malcolm sat back in the seat and turned to his companion.

"Fuck!"

"I think you ran over something.....a log maybe.....under the snow!" She gave a look of sympathy.

"Well, there's nothing for it. We can't fucking stay here. We'll freeze to death. There was a pub in that village about a mile back. We'll just have to hike it!" 

"Romantic weekend you said! Come to Scotland you said! You could have taken me to Venice, or Paris.....anywhere......." 

"Well I can't book the fucking weather can I? This is romantic.....a snowy walk......it'll bring the colour to your cheeks!" 

Sam huffed, in mock annoyance.  
This was her boss......the very same......for whom she'd worked nigh on four years......and had fancied for probably three years and 364 days.  
There had always been something there......an undercurrent......a frisson.......at first she ignored it, told herself it was in her imagination, her love most definitely unrequited.  
Listened to him berating other colleagues on a daily basis, but never her. To her he was always kind......sweetness and light!  
In the workplace they gelled so well together, a team. On the same wavelength. Sam grew to love her job, working for him was never dull!  
She was beginning to think he'd never act on his own very obvious feelings.  
He bought her a Christmas present every year......and birthday too. Always something personal, always carefully chosen, and usually quite expensive.  
There had been the odd moment when their eyes locked, or he was very close to her, when she'd thought........well, she'd thought he was going to.........do something. 

He never did. 

Then came the Christmas party.  
He didn't drink.....or if he did it was very little and very rare.  
This night he had a couple of scotches.....she knew because she could smell it on his breath when he came over and asked her to dance.  
Yes......he came over......purposefully.......and put his mouth close to her ear, and whispered, in that glorious Glaswegian burr,  
"You look gorgeous Sam. Dance with me?" 

Frankly she was staggered. 

Dutch courage?  
She acquiesced willingly. He led her by the hand, onto the floor. One arm firmly holding around her, his hand pressing in the centre of her back. The other arm to the side, their fingers interlaced. 

Sam could hardly breathe.  
Her stomach churning, she didn't dare look up into his face, meet those beautiful sea foam eyes. 

They went home in a cab.  
Together.  
To her place. Once there he was gauche and awkward, kept backing off, Sam wasn't about to fling herself at him.....no.....if there was any chasing to be done......well......it wasn't going to be her!  
She made him a coffee, he made small talk, then said it was late, he ought to be going.  
So not staying the night then.......too much of a gentleman she guessed.  
Old fashioned. It was sweet, endearing. 

But it was the start of something. An odd beginning. 

The first time he kissed her, they were at a conference.  
They were in the lift.....and there he was, with his tongue down her throat. Took her quite by surprise. It was as if he couldn't wait a second longer......had to go for it.......now or never!  
Fuck, and he was such a good kisser.  
Well of course he was! What did she expect?

After that it was little stolen moments.  
Out of the way trysts. Surreptitious hand holding.  
Lust driven fumbles, the odd rendezvous, perhaps for a drink, or meal, if she was lucky.  
This had been going on for a couple of months now, nothing formal, nothing pre planned as such. Sam was frustrated by it if she was honest.  
Chiefly because she thought it was going nowhere, he was mucking her about, wasn't he? She didn't know where she stood, not really, she didn't know how he really felt......she didn't even know how SHE felt, for goodness sake!  
Well, she did.....but she didn't want to think about it. 

They still hadn't slept together, or come anywhere near. She wasn't quite sure why.  
He flatly refused to make her a quick shag in a hotel room somewhere, creeping down a corridor at five AM. Or up against the desk in his office. It was all too sordid.  
He had a hang up about liaisons in the workplace, although they came pretty close a couple of times.....

......then, he'd asked her away for the weekend. 

Just like that......out of the blue. 

To Scotland.  
A cottage. Quiet......romantic.....out of the way........it belonged to him......his very own bolt hole, would she come? 

Yes she would. 

It was the end of February.  
It snowed. Heavily. Several feet of the stuff in fact.  
So here they were.  
Walking. Or rather stumbling. Along a deserted road, in the late afternoon.  
Was she completely mad? Sam thought she probably was! 

He was walking slightly ahead of her, shoulders hunched, collar turned up against the bitter wind.  
Hands shoved deep in his pockets.  
Sam trotted in his wake, doing her best to keep up with that long stride. 

"Malcolm! Can you slow down a bit!" She breathed. 

He turned and regarded her with an air of slight annoyance. Then the penny of realisation dropped and his features softened.  
"Sorry! I didn't think." He muttered.  
The end of his nose was pink, his cheeks pallid and grey. He always looked as if he were in want of a good meal.  
He slowed his pace slightly. 

"Malcolm? Why did you ask me? She linked her arm through his as they crunched through a drift.  
He glanced down at her hand as though it had no business to be there, unexpected, uncalled for....as if any number of people might see.....although there wasn't another soul for miles.  
No reply.  
Looking up she saw his eyes narrow on the road ahead, as if calculating the distance.  
"Let's just get to that pub shall we?" He took her gloved hand to help her across a particularly icy section.  
She almost slid and went down, but he grabbed her and hauled her back to her feet.  
"Watch it! You'll break your fucking ankle!"  
"You didn't answer my question!" She pressed, regaining her balance. 

"I didn't answer because I don't really know!" He snapped. "Because I'm a fucking cunt and I should fucking well know better, you're my PA and I'm at least fifteen years older than you, and that makes me a fucking creep.......and I've tried to keep a lid on this and keep my perspective and I've failed miserably." 

She was silenced. 

He was upset. She could tell.  
Not with her, but with himself.  
He saw this as weakness. Something to be fought against. A dalliance with his PA, it somehow made him into a betrayer of principles. 

His own. 

His upbringing......the way he saw himself........as being above all that, different from the other pervy blokes who fancied their secretaries, who pinched their arses or groped their tits when they were at the photocopy machine. Who treated them like pieces of meat on display in the butcher's window. Those milk sop twats who cheated on their wives at conferences and seminars by fucking their employees senseless after the drinks party, then phoning the little woman at home to say goodnight to the kiddies.  
It nauseated him.  
They tried to justify themselves, it was disgusting. 

oOo

It began to snow hard. Great fat flakes. Whipped by the wind into a blizzard.  
"Great!" She puffed. "Just what we need."  
Heads down they battled on, in stony silence. 

Dusk was falling as they reached the village. Thank goodness it had been no further.  
The barkeep was a ruddy man. Red of face and red of hair.  
Thickset and muscular, pink and shiny, he resembled a fatling piglet, beady eyes like two pieces of jet, endlessly stoic and cheerful. 

They were soon seated on Windsor armchairs, on either side of a roaring fire, nursing hot toddies.  
Malcolm's short cropped hair dripped, the water trickled down his face, and off the end of his long nose.  
He sniffed, and blew into the top of his glass, the steam rising and dissipating as he sipped it gingerly. His trouser legs and feet were soaked, and he hunched over the blaze as if nothing could warm him. 

Their coats were drying on a wooden clothes horse.  
A room was being readied for them, and a hot meal. Mien host's grown up son, who was a younger version of his father, dispatched in the Land Rover to fetch their bags from their abandoned car. 

Malcolm shot a look at Sam over the top of his tumbler.  
"Fucking sorry!" He murmured. 

She smiled a warm smile, which quite disarmed him.  
"Doesn't matter Malcolm. It's an adventure!" She said softly, and reached over to place a hand on his forearm, giving it a little squeeze. 

"Fucking stupid idea!" He continued, almost as if he hadn't heard her. Staring into the burning embers now, the reflection of it dancing in his eyes. His voice distant.  
Regretful. 

"Malcolm. It's fine. We're okay. I'd rather be here with you than anywhere else." She smiled again reassuringly. 

His glance up at her was sharp. Disbelief written there. 

"Fuck! Really? Why?" He retorted. 

"You know why Malcolm. You don't need to ask why. Do you? I've worked for you for four years, I've barely dated anyone in all that time. That must surely tell you something?" She looked at him earnestly. 

"Yeah! That you're off your fucking trolley." He huffed. "It's the only explanation." 

"Malcolm, what's been happening this last couple of months? You and me. It's like you're circling around me, too scared to move in closer, but don't want to walk away......then you asked me to come away with you? What's going on with you?" She set down her glass and left her chair. Kneeling in front of him, her back to the fire, hands on his damp knees. Looking up into his face. Her eyes full of questions.

"Truth? I don't know what the fuck I'm playing at. I thought you'd say no! I was so surprised when you agreed to come, I was too flabbergasted to back out. You......I mean, you're fucking gorgeous, and you're young and fresh and wonderful........and I'm......well, I'm fucking kidding myself, for starters." He rubbed the tip of his nose a few times with the back of his hand, and sniffed miserably.  
"You could have anyone, and yet you want me? Bullshit! I'm a fucking grizzled husk, too old for you and I'm your fucking boss. I'm under no illusions here, darlin', believe me.......I don't fucking do this Sam......I fucking don't. I don't take advantage of women, I don't mistreat them, I never have, and yet I've fallen by the wayside, hook, line and sinker here......taken in by a some daft notion I thought I could see. Because I'm a miserable lonely fucker, who's deluded myself that you might really be interested, and that you're not secretly pissing yourself laughing at what a sad twat I am, and that it was so easy to lead me on. Does that answer your question? Go ahead, laugh all you want. I don't care anymore." 

Tears welled up, swimming on the edge of Sam's lower lids, filling before spilling over and rolling silently down her cheeks. 

"Oh Malcolm! Do you really, seriously believe I'd lead you on like that?" her voice was barely a whisper. " I could never be that cruel, not to you, not to any man. That I would laugh at you behind your back when I'm with my 'young man'? Delight in making you a cuckold? Do you think I'm so shallow? So mean spirited? So heartless? You really don't get it do you? I agreed to come, because I was hopeful. Hopeful that you'd come to some decision with yourself, about us......that you'd decided it was what you wanted, that you were ready, and that you wanted more........why else would I come?" 

His eyes searched her face as she looked up into his, illuminated by the light from the burning logs in the grate, a rosy glow, an aura of beauty, such as he'd never even contemplated. 

"Fuck! Sam!" His arms came around her, hauling her up roughly and in towards him, holding her tight, she bought her knees up and round and sat in his lap. Her legs over one arm of the chair, her head against his chest. He placed grateful kisses into her hair, over and over. 

"Why Sam? Why? Why would you even......" He began, trying to comprehend.  
"Shhh!" She placed a finger over his lips gently. "Don't! I've always liked you Malcolm.......right from the start. I thought you knew. But I pushed it aside, because I thought it wasn't what you wanted, at least at first. Then I kinda thought, maybe you liked me, and I hoped. But you did nothing. I would never have acted on it, never, but then the Christmas party happened, and I was sure.....I dared to believe. Since then we've been dancing around each other, and I wasn't sure what you wanted.....or how to show you what I wanted.....or what to do next!"

"Shit! I don't know what to fucking say! I'm no fucking good for you Sam, I'm rotten through and through, I work too much, I'm an emaciated shell of fuck. I've nothing going for me whatever. Why would you throw yourself away on that?" He tried to release his hold on her, but she snuggled into him more closely. 

"I'll be the judge of what's good for me and what isn't! And that's not what I see. I think you are kind and thoughtful......you always are with me. I think you work too much because you have nothing else, I think you're lonely. Oh.....and I think you're wonderful!" She paused, and touched a hand to his face, moving her head so that their lips were inches apart.  
"Kiss me Malcolm, please, kiss me properly, not like you did in the lift, but properly, like you've got all the time in the world, not a stolen moment before the doors slide open and we're caught, but like you really mean it....."

He moved his face closer, touching his mouth to hers gently, before sinking into her, as if she might melt away from him at any second. He tasted of the malt whiskey, warm and peaty, and delicious. It was a kiss not so much of passion but of desperation, a little mewing sound coming from him, as his arms drew her into his chest. Her fingers were touching his hair, stroking through its wiry softness. When she chanced a glance, she could see his eyes were shut, the long lashes brushing his cheek, his face flushed from the firelight and excitement.

"Huh hmmm!!" A slight cough came from beside them.

Malcolm broke apart from her as if he'd been stung by a hornet, almost pushing her off his lap and into the hearth. Sam smiled bashfully up at the barman's son, but Malcolm's face registered guilt and shame, like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. 

"Sorry!" The young man smiled, wryly. "I got your bags. I towed your car off the road a bit. It's going to be drifting at this rate, it'll probably be all but buried by morning if it snows all night. I didn't want someone ploughing into it." 

"You're so kind. Thank you!" Sam beamed, swinging her legs round, extricating herself from Malcolm's hold and standing up. 

"Mum says grub'll be ready soon, she said to 'go get out of those damp clothes before you both catch pneumonia and food'll be on the table by the time you're done!'....." He considered for a moment, as if recalling his instructions, then added, " Oh yes! And to tell you the weight of the snow will probably bring the wires down, so we might lose the electric, but we've candles and lanterns everywhere and the fires are all alight. We have our own generators, but they're noisy, so dad usually only fires up the garage one, to keep the freezers going!"

"I suppose you're used to it!" Sam responded.  
"Oh God! Aye! Happens almost every year here. All part and parcel!" He smiled genially and turned away. "Top of the stairs, first door directly ahead of you. That's the guest suite.....I'll leave you to it." He gave a little wink, which caused Malcolm to scowl, and disappeared in the direction of the kitchen. 

The room was in the eaves of the squat and sturdy Public House. Once an old coaching inn, the upstair rooms were all in the roof space, the ceiling pointed at its apex just above the bed. Which was a large heavy old fashioned one. Carved wooden bedposts, a thick tartan coverlet tucked across it. Another wooden clothes horse stood to one side of the fire, with towels hanging from it. A door to one side led to a tiny en suite with sink, toilet and shower.  
Malcolm threw the bags down and gave a sigh.  
"This is cosy!" Sam looked round appreciatively, then turned to Malcolm,  
"You go first," she said, as she unzipped her hold-all. "You look completely frozen....a hot shower is what you need.....more than me!"  
He began by stripping off his fleece and unbuttoning his shirt......then seemed to stop dead.....realising he was undressing......in front of her.......and with a sudden attack of shyness, he snatched up a towel and robe and disappeared into the bathroom, Sam heard the door lock behind him.  
She tutted, smiled to herself and shook her head. 

The water ran for a long time. Eventually he emerged, scrubbed and polished, in a cloud of steam. Wrapped in the towelling dressing gown.  
Their room had a dormer window, set into the jut of the ceiling, looking out across the moorland towards the hills. He found Sam curled into the cushioned window seat, peering out into the gloom.  
It was pitch black and huge flakes were still falling silently, a cotton wool blanket of softness, muffling everything, the whole world on mute.  
All that could be heard was the friendly crackle of the fire, and the distant bleating of sheep, from the corralled barn across the cobbled courtyard.  
His hair was wet, and slicked back, making him look rather like a '30's matinee idol, she thought. 

"Better?" She asked, turning to look at him.  
'Yeah! Much." He sat himself on the edge of the bed, bouncing it a couple of times, testing it's spring and any noise it might make. The mattress was as spongy as a marshmallow, the bed frame sturdy as a rock. Not so much as a squeak came from it.  
He huffed to himself, then started to pull clean dry clothes from his bag.  
Sam unfurled herself with a stretch and a yawn.  
"It's still snowing very hard." She remarked, wiping at the lattice window with the sleeve of her jumper pulled down over her hand. "Don't think we'll be going far, looks like we're here for the duration."  
He didn't reply but appeared to be considering how he could dress himself without taking the robe off or undoing it.  
"Malcolm.....what are you so afraid of? That I'll jump on you or something? Surely you're not really so coy?" She left the seat and crossed the room, standing before him.  
"Fuck! I........I don't want to let you........." He stammered.  
"You don't want me to see your body? Is that it? Scared I'll be put off?" She touched the lapels of his robe lightly.  
"Something like that." He murmured, eyes on her hands nervously.  
"I'm nothing to look at! Old and fucking lumpy, and not attractive one bit!" He moved back slightly, as if to pull away, but Sam held on to him.  
"Let me be the judge of that.....hey?" She whispered, and reached for the belt tie. He grasped her hands firmly in his own. Stopping her.  
"Sam, please don't!" He begged, his face pinched and anxious.  
She turned his hands gently, pulling them around her middle, moving in close, so that her chest was near to his. Then returned to his belt, untying it and pushing the towelling fabric aside.  
Skinny, with a smattering of silvery hair over his rib cage and down to his navel, narrow shoulders, sticky out collar bones, a little softness at the belly, but his abs underneath rippled as he shivered under her touch. She stroked her hands under the material, humming with pleasure as she did so.  
"Mmmm! Nothing wrong here that I can see!" She said softly, bring her lips to the side of his neck.  
There was a sharp intake of breath from him, at the sensation.  
His hips were narrow, with thick, muscular legs, she quite expected a certain part of him to be standing to attention, but it wasn't, he was flaccid and unaroused, breathing rapidly.......then the reason dawned on her.....he was completely terrified.  
He wasn't even holding her firmly, his arms limp around her......  
"Sam.....I.......please!" 

He was upset. 

She realised it instantly.  
Moving back and away from him, she began to undo her own clothing, slowly and deliberately. His eyes widened, but he didn't move himself or flinch, watching her avidly. He licked his lips involuntarily as she removed her bra and knickers and stood before him completely starkers.....her arms held out to the sides.  
"Well?" She said quietly.....  
"You're fucking gorgeous!" He gasped, as she reached forwards, taking his hands and placing them on her hips bones gently.  
"Malcolm......so are you!" She replied......"You are beautiful.....why would you think I'd be disgusted by you? Why? You're all man, and you're very handsome....."  
He scoffed with disdain, and reddened visibly, casting his eyes down at himself with a frown.  
"Malcolm......never be ashamed of yourself in front of me.....okay.......? You've nothing to worry about.....trust me!"  
He glanced up again shyly.  
"Okay." He breathed. "But......Sam......I can't........I mean to say, I want to......but...."  
"You need time." She finished his sentence, he nodded, barely able to look her in the eye.  
"It's been a while." He said lamely.  
"That's fine Malcolm......we have all the time in the world! Why don't you get yourself dressed? I'll have my shower, then we'll go down, sit in the snug, have a lovely dinner and a glass of wine, and just relax? Yeah?"  
"That sounds fucking perfect." He replied with a thinly disguised sigh of relief. 

Fifteen minutes later, they were sitting near the fire, he holding her hand, their fingers interlaced, and looking in wonder at her face in the glow of the firelight. 

He wasn't sure where this would end up.  
But it was as near to fucking perfect as he could ever have hoped for.


	2. Sod's Law.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the next morning and Malcolm and Sam are snowed in.....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had been asked by several readers for a Part Two of Snowbound.  
> I was not planning to write more......but in the best tradition of being completely wrong......here it is!!

PART TWO.  
SOD'S LAW. 

Malcolm sat in the window seat, peering out into the early morning light.  
The snow had ceased and the sun was shining.  
Deep and crisp and even!

His mind was churning over and over.  
So confused. 

His emotions a jumble of conflicting feelings that he was grappling with, trying to understand. 

He glanced over towards the bed.  
Sam. 

She was laying in the centre of the huge mattress. On her side. Facing him.  
A shaft of sunlight streaming across her lovely face.  
One arm stretched out straight from underneath her, the other resting on top of the coverlet.  
Her glossy hair strewn across the pillow. 

Peaceful now, sleeping, a slight twitch from time to time. Long lashes brushing her cheek as her eyelids fluttered. 

oOo

The evening had been one that Malcolm knew he'd never forget.  
For him it was utter bliss. If he never had another moment with her, he'd always remember that evening.  
When she made all the shit that was his life just melt away.  
Sitting either side of the fire, no TV, no Blackberry, not even a phone signal.......cocooned from the world. 

As predicted the electricity failed.  
Soft candle light, the flicker from the burning logs, bathing them with a gentle glow.  
A glass of whiskey to finish their meal. Warm and peaty on the tongue. A whisper of Highland streams and dusky heather.  
They spoke together in hushed voices, four years worth of things unsaid, so much to convey.  
The talk grew easier, as the Scotch loosened their tongues.  
There was less awkwardness, a gradual thawing.  
Somehow, slowly, Malcolm relaxed, forcing himself to come to terms with the fact that she was here, and here was where she wanted to be. 

There was nowhere else. That's what she said. Here. With him. 

He took her hand when they went up the stairs.  
Tiny hands, enveloped by his own. Somehow her fingers fitted and felt comfortable there.  
Malcolm's heart soared.  
He was going upstairs with the most beautiful woman. It was real. Couldn't believe his luck.  
Why did she want him? 

Fuck if he knew. 

But he was pathetically grateful.  
He felt a distinct stirring in his groin area at that thought.  
She wanted him. How did he feel about that?  
Crapping fucking breeze blocks! 

It was an alien concept. 

This, for her, apparently wasn't a new thing. She'd wanted him for a long time.  
Had she hidden it that well? Or was he just blind to the signs?  
Perhaps he saw them subconsciously but chose to ignore them? 

She was smiling at him now. A gentle, wistful smile. Drawing him in.  
He kissed her.  
A warm and gentle exploration, his hands came up to frame her face, thumbs on her cheekbones, pausing to search her eyes, hunting for a sign.  
Any hint that she might know or guess what he was thinking.  
How scared he was, like a schoolboy. 

He could hardly breathe.  
'All the time in the world' she'd said. That meant she intended sticking around. Fuck, but he needed that time, to get his head around it all.  
To REALLY believe. To conquer his fear. 

His fear of what exactly?

Of everything that relationships meant to him. Trust. Love. Giving of himself, placing himself into the hands of another. Learning about the needs and desires of another person. Sexual fulfilment, the wonder of touching and kissing and holding a lovely woman such as Sam.  
Commitment. The whole thing.  
It was fucking terrifying. 

So badly burnt. More than once. Such deep and profound pain in his past. All the joy and affection, all his most treasured yearnings, long ago beaten out of him. Left a husk. Empty and alone.  
He swore.......never again. 

Never. 

Vulnerability was weakness.  
And he was as weak as a kitten right now. She was opening him up like a can of beans. Ripping the lid off him.  
Helpless.  
Because, fuck.......he wanted her.  
So fucking much.  
Consuming him. Making him tremble. Every instinct telling him to fight against it. He felt physically ill. Lightheaded. Completely swamped. 

He pulled back.  
Panting. Sweat breaking on his brow and top lip.  
Almost a panic attack.........pulling at his own collar, fingers scrabbling at his neck.........fuck! 

"Easy Malcolm." She whispered. "Take it easy."  
Fuck.......but he was going to blub wasn't he?  
Like a snot faced boy. He was nearly fifty for fucks sake. What the hell was he playing at? 

Stumbling backwards, the back of his hand against his mouth.  
Control yourself Tucker!  
Get a grip for fucks sake! 

Her arms around him, hand in his hair. 

"Malcolm! Hush! It's okay!" 

That was it. He was gone. Lost it.  
Tears. Taking both his hands in hers. Caressing the backs with her soft fingers. A soothing gesture.  
Sitting him down on the edge of the bed. Lowering herself at his side. One arm snaked around his shoulder, a hand now caressing his face.  
"A lot to take in." She murmured, her lips close to his ear.  
"Fucking right!" He sniffed, a battle.......fighting to regain control. 

His head came to rest against hers then. Leaning there. Chest heaving, shoulders rising and falling as he fell apart.  
She said nothing.  
Just cradled him in an embrace, a silent comforting stillness.  
Let him sob it out. 

"What the fuck am I doing? I'm a fucking child! Look at me! What a mess! What the fuck would you want me for?" He sat up slightly, pulling away from her, wiping his eyes, his runny nose. 

"I've a feeling this is way, way overdue." She replied quietly. "Lots of stuff you've pushed down for a very long time." 

"And it chooses now to come out?" He choked, "what the fuck is that all about?" 

"If now is the right time......then......yes! Why _not_ now?" She was looking at him with a tenderness that made an ache under his ribs. A tangible pain.

"Fuck it all Sam! Why do you want me? I'm broken. Beyond hope. I'm nothing but a fucking joke! Look at me."  
He blew his nose loudly, and raised his eyes to hers. 

"Love doesn't have a time frame Malcolm. Nor does it take into account our past......love sees the good, the integrity, the strength, that others don't. It shows us empathy, deep feeling, warmth and forgetfulness. It gives us the ability to see beyond weakness and regret and bitterness, it gives us the power to rise above old disappointments, heartaches and hurts. We are fortified, made new. Able to start afresh, and move passed old wounds. It heals us, the scars fade, we begin again. That's what love is."  
She kissed him tenderly, letting her lips brush his, capturing his mouth with her own in a series of butterfly pecks. 

"Ha! Fucking poetical Sam! That's just about the most profound sentence I've ever fucking heard!" 

"It's the truth Malcolm. I love you, for whatever reason. It's really quite simple." 

His eyes widened. He let the words sink in. She'd said it. The 'L' word. Just like that.  
Shaking his head from side to side, the enormity of it all.  
"Fucking fuck me!" He hissed. 

She made to rise, and kissed him once more, his eyes following her with a continued look of barely disguised incredulity. 

"I'm going to have a shower. I'm weary and I ache all over.......I'm not sure if it's the whiskey or the hike through the snow, but I need to get to bed!" 

She was gone a while. 

Malcolm didn't move. He just sat and thought through that sentence in his head, over and over. Picking it apart, analysing each word. It seemed she was telling the truth.  
Now all he had to do was make himself believe it. 

By the time she emerged he was resting back against the pillows, his boots still on, legs stretched out and crossed, hands clasped behind his head. 

He sat forward and held his arms out to her. She came to him, willingly, but her face wore an expression of vague apology, almost regretful, and before he could say anything, she spoke.  
"Malcolm.......just so you know........." There was just a hint of mirth, but ironic, as if holding in a giggle of suppressed sardonicism. "I've started bleeding." 

He let out a puff of air, and buried his face into her neck with a groan.  
"Sod's law!" He breathed. 

"I'm so, so sorry.......it's early......it must be all the upheaval." She winced, as she moved a little closer. 

"Don't be! As you said......all the time in the world!" 

She pretended to sob into his chest, mock weeping and they found themselves both falling into laughter, like the release of a pressure valve. 

oOo

 

So, here he was, seated in the window seat.  
First light. Before seven.  
Gazing at this vision of loveliness.  
Sleeping Beauty. And he, definitely the Beast, he mused, smiling inwardly to himself. 

As he watched, utterly transfixed, she stirred.  
Waking, rubbing her eyes with her knuckles, screwing them into the sockets.  
Sitting up slowly, with a yawn and a grimace. 

Most of the night she'd had cramps.  
They'd lain together, spooned.  
His hand resting on her belly, rubbing in gentle circles. The tablets she'd taken didn't seem to work. Not for a long while.  
Eventually she'd drifted into a restless, fitful sleep, with the warmth of his touch. 

Malcolm, however, lay awake.  
Marvelling.  
Just to be holding her like this. It was enough. 

Fuck! Better than that. It was wonderful. 

Her proximity. The little sounds she made in her sleep.  
Listening to the shallow breathing. In and out. In and out. A slight hitch now and again.  
A whimper into the pillow, making him tighten his grip, causing her to push back into him, nestling closer, for comfort, for relief.  
Feeling her soft skin, the scent of her hair, her warmth against his stomach.  
Neither could quite justify being naked, especially Malcolm, who remained painfully body conscious. He slept in his t shirt and boxer shorts. She in a vest top and knickers. 

oOo

The burgeoning erection tenting his boxers, caused by his thinking over the events of the night, would remain unattended to. As it had been so many times in the years since he'd last been in a proper relationship. 

It didn't matter.  
He would ignore it. In all the mass of feelings filtering through him at that precise moment, that one was the least important. 

He rose, and sat himself down on the edge of the bed. 

"Morning love!" The smile she flashed him did odd things to his brain.  
Fuck, but he felt strange.  
A lurch in his stomach that he couldn't put a name to, or give an adequate explanation for. 

"How you feeling?" He touched her fingers lightly.  
"Like I've been poked in the guts with a bent stick!" She replied matter of factly, taking the proffered hand in her own and squeezing it reassuringly. 

"Fancy breakfast?" He leaned forward, his robe falling open.  
She gave a wolfish grin at the sight that met her gaze.  
"Not sure about breakfast......but do you need help with that?" She said softly, her eyes travelling down to his stiff cock, which had somehow transpired to peep traitorously through the vent at the front of his underwear. 

He surveyed himself sharply, as if his own body had betrayed him, suddenly deeply ashamed, then let his glance drift back to her, with a look that he hoped was as contrite as he felt, and not too needy. 

"I'm so sorry............fuck!" He groaned. 

"Malcolm! Sweetie.....come here!" She opened her arms to him, invitingly, her expression not mocking, not cruel or derisive, but serious, and so very tempting. He crawled onto the bed beside her, settling into her embrace with a sigh and a little mewing sound which he found impossible to suppress.  
She passed him a wodge of toilet paper from her bedside cabinet.  
"Here! You might need this!" She whispered.  
Fuck.......so utterly beguiling.  
He watched hypnotised, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he swallowed.  
Easing the fabric of his boxers by the waistband, she exposed him inch by inch agonisingly slowly and with great care, before she closed first her hand, then her mouth around his length with languid and deliberate motions, it was all he could do to prevent himself from thrusting. 

"Oh Fuck! Sam! Please!" 

His sharp intake of breath at the contact was barely controlled. He wasn't expecting her to go down on him like that. Powerful sensations shot through him. More than just his dick was going to explode, his whole body became a powder keg. He let his eyes fall shut, concentrating on the feel of her lips around him, her hand massaging his aching balls gently, when her tongue found his slit and the most sensitive point just under the head, he cursed softly under his breath, his head thrashing from side to side, eyes snapped open and pleading silently, as he fought to hold off and make this glorious feeling last a few precious seconds longer......

 

Malcolm lay in a dreamy haze of bliss. 

Sucking in his abs as she continued to stroke him gently, across his chest and tummy, after he came down from what was probably the hardest climax he'd had in years.  
He thought he'd never stop coming.  
Pulsing, throbbing, lifting his hips off the bed towards her willing hand as she pumped him. She held him teetering on the brink of oblivion, before allowing him fall over with a strangled cry, writhing out of control, then finally stilling.  
Saying 'fuck, fuck' over and over again, between heaving breaths. 

He wasn't going to cry again was he?  
Fuck! He was a total wreck!   
She cooed to him, calming him.  
Her body draped over his, her mouth cool against his skin. Kissing down his torso as his whole being hummed with delight and sensual pleasure, his ragged breathing gradually slowing. Pleasure that she herself had to only imagine. 

Sated. 

"Good?" She enquired shyly. 

"Oh fuck! Sam! You have no idea!" He gasped. 

He was spent. 

It was still early. Breakfast could wait.  
So he turned onto his side, brought his legs up and lay in front of her, she curled herself into the curve of his back.  
Like this she couldn't see. Was unaware of the tears that continued to leak out from under his lashes.  
"Fuck, but I think I'm in love with you Sam." He whispered between sniffs he tried vainly to disguise, hardly able to comprehend.  
He felt her smile into his shoulder blade, and place a little kiss there. 

"Sleep Malcolm!" She purred. 

He did.  
Falling down into a deep and dreamless slumber. 

Outside it began to snow heavily again. 

 

Fin.


	3. From Bean to Cup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm wakes in the morning, in a snowy Scottish guest house......

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Petersgal sent me a prompt .......
> 
> "Sam is on edge about something and malcolm cant do right from wrong,and of course his mind goes into overdrive as to what is going on..?"
> 
> Which got me thinking about Snowbound. It couldn't end there really...... could it? 
> 
> So thank you my friend for the inspiration, and I've written a few more chapters for this story, from your prompt!! Xxx

FROM BEAN TO CUP. 

Waking again a couple of hours later, Malcolm found himself on lying his back, with Sam clinging to him like a limpet. Her head was nestled into the crook of his neck, one hand resting against his chest. She sighed gently in her sleep, and snuggled herself even closer.

Fuck, but it felt good. 

Earlier she'd given him probably the best blow-job of his life. The first time he'd come by another method other than his own hand, for so long he couldn't even fucking remember. 

Then why did he feel so bad now?  
Why did it seem just so fucking wrong?  
And why did he feel so bloody guilty? Ashamed? Like he was somehow taking advantage of her?

She was his PA.  
Loyal, devoted, loving and very sweet. It made him feel like shit. 

Like he was somehow corrupting her, sucking her into the dog pile that was his existence. That she must be somehow infatuated, because he was her boss, or maybe because she thought he was broken and she was under the illusion she could somehow fix him.  
All the thoughts he'd had the day before, resurfaced. He'd pushed them down. Got caught up in the moment. Let himself start to believe. She'd seemed sincere, she wanted him, she liked him, even loved him. But she must be deluded, and he, the stupid needy fucker that he was, had been oh so flattered! Young, very beautiful, just a lovely girl. Who wouldn't want to be paid attention to by that?

Fuck it all, was he in love with her?

He distinctly remembered uttering those words, through thinly veiled tears. Pathetic. So fucking grateful. The feel of her hands on him, so recently......god! She'd sent him to another place!  
But that didn't make it right.  
What could he offer her in return? Nothing.  
What could he bring to this relationship? Very little. Baggage. Plenty of baggage.  
Every hang up and rotten experience you could care to name. Right there, inside him.  
His life was a mess. A mass of contradictions. Bitter and twisted. He worked too fucking hard, for too long hours. When was the last time he'd taken a proper holiday even?  
He had no real friends, little social life outside of work functions and conferences. Old, cynical and unattractive. 

And yet she was here! With him.  
Fuck! But he really didn't know what to do next. Had he ever been more afraid? Not since he left home as a gawky teenager. Where it was going? Fuck if he knew.  
He was relieved they hadn't had sex. It would have meant there was something more, been the beginning of something, an intimacy between them that it would have been impossible to ignore.  
He'd wanted to though.......fuck but he'd wanted to so badly.......but he'd been almost glad when she'd emerged from the shower, told him she'd started her period, it took the pressure off, gave him time to regroup, step back. It wasn't just nerves, although that had been part of it, it was that he just simply was wary of plunging in where there'd be no going back, couldn't be undone. He was not comfortable with fucking his secretary, he just wasn't.  
Malcolm Tucker didn't screw around, he respected women. It was a step away from leaving a wad of cash on her bedside table before he left. He wasn't going to be that cunt. He wasn't. She deserved so much better, and so did he.

Extricating himself from her embrace, he rose, showered and dressed. Went downstairs.  
He guessed she would wake, find him gone. Follow him down. She did just that.  
A snow plough went passed the inn as he sipped a coffee.  
She appeared some time later. Looking radiant. A vision, hair swept up. Seating herself beside him.  
"Why didn't you wake me?" Her voice was gentle, an slight air of disappointment, she leaned in to kiss him, but he turned his face at the last moment and she brushed his cheek.  
"Didn't want to disturb. You were dead to the world." His reply was short.  
"Malcolm.....?" She began, her expression was one of puzzlement.  
"Don't!" He snapped, glancing just behind her by way of a warning.  
The red faced barkeep sauntered in, Malcolm found it difficult to look him in the eye.  
"Morning folks! The plough has been through. We are clear, if you'd like I can take you into town, to the station. The trains are running to Glasgow, and flights are not too delayed, so I hear. I can sort out the car for you, me and the boy'll return it." The proprietor smiled jovially.  
"That's kind, thank you. Don't like to put you to all this trouble." He replied curtly.  
"Nae bother! After breakfast then?" He beamed.  
"Yes. We'll be ready. Thank you." Malcolm pointedly kept his gaze away from Sam. 

oOo

The journey home was long and tiring. There were delays.  
They couldn't talk as they bumped along in the Land Rover. Malcolm focused resolutely on the road ahead.  
As soon as they reached civilisation Malcolm's phone went bonkers. Most of the train journey he was standing in the aisle or on the footplate between carriages, deep in conversation.  
Sam was silent. Her eyes far away. Staring unseeing into the middle distance. Malcolm tried to make conversation a couple of times, in between calls, but her replies were so cursory that after the third time he gave up.  
Once settled on the plane, she suddenly turned to him, her eyes swimming, as if she'd done a great deal of thinking and had come to some momentous decision.  
"Malcolm? Where are we going?"  
He looked confused.  
"Home!"  
"That's not what I meant, and you know it. Malcolm, I want you. I'm in love with you." There was pain behind her eyes, and it did things to Malcolm's head. Made him feel sick.  
"If you don't feel the same, then tell me to fuck off, or to forget it, or to leave you alone, or whatever. But don't do......do......this!" She waved her hand expansively. "Because it's horrible, and you're making me feel like shit. And I can't take it."  
A single tear coursed down one cheek.  
"Oh fuck! Sam. How do I answer? I don't know how. I don't know what the fuck I want, or I do, but I can't take it on board. It just feels wrong, I feel like a cunt, and I feel like everything will change if it all goes tits up. I'll lose your friendship, not to mention your respect. Fuck! I'm already losing the tiny modicum of dignity I might have had, in being foolish over you. Making an prick of myself, kidding myself. Don't push me Sam. I can't do it. I just can't. I don't care two fucks what anyone else thinks of me, but if I go down in YOUR estimation, then there's nothing left. Don't make me feel worse than I already do. I need time to think. I can't just wipe away all the shite in my past life. It's all I've ever known. Being with me will make you fucking miserable. I fuck everything up, I'm better on my own, that way the only person who gets hurt is me. I'm trying to think of you here. Not myself. Honestly." Malcolm stared out of the window as the runway flashed passed.  
Sam closed her hand around his fingers and squeezed them.  
"Okay. You don't have to answer now. Take time, if you think it'll help. But consider this.....it was you who asked me to dance with you at Christmas. You who started asking me out for a drink, or for dinner. You asked me to come away with you for the weekend. You can see there's something there, just as I can. Last night, God it seems like a year ago! I told you I loved you. That was pretty big for me.....and after.....well......after.......you said you thought you were in love with me. Did you mean it? Or were you just saying it? Just so many words? Have you changed your mind? Thought better of it? Because I need to know Malcolm. You need to be honest with me......and more importantly.....with yourself. If time is what you need, then I'll give you time. But don't keep me hanging in the air forever, and don't mess with me like this, because it's cruel, and it hurts like fuck. Okay?"  
Malcolm nodded, wiping a trembling hand across his face.  
There were no more words. The stewardess came with the trolley. They lapsed into silence. Sam sniffled. Malcolm hadn't felt this bad since he found out his relationship with his ex wife was a complete lie, that she was having an affair, had lots of affairs, and that he was a stupid gullible prat. 

In the taxi from the airport. Malcolm was constantly checking his mobile, which sprung into life again as soon as they touched down.  
All hell was breaking loose.....he was needed.....where the fuck was he.....Why wasn't he here?  
Fuck it all, how dare he have a couple of days off? This was what his life was. How could he have any kind of meaningful relationship in the face of all that? Who in their right mind would put up with it?  
"I've got to go into the office." He sighed, his shoulders dropping. "I'll drop you home, go straight in from there."  
Sam's eyes were wet.  
'God Malcolm, you're such a heel!' He thought. His chest ached. A crushing pain there was no cure for.  
They reached her place. Both got out, he to fetch her bag, meaning to carry it for her. She snatched it out of his hand.  
"I can manage!"  
Malcolm hung his head, sorrowful.  
"I'll call you." He said quietly.  
"Whatever! See you in the office tomorrow Malcolm." She marched away, towards her front door. He watched her let herself in.

She didn't look back.

oOo

Reaching Number Ten he was met by Ollie, looking insufferably smug.  
"Where have you been? Tom's going ballistic. He's got to go to Brussels, and you and I are going with him. We couldn't get hold of you!"   
His boyish face as eager, a rosy patch on each cheek.   
"I was trying to have a quiet weekend in Scotland! Visiting family. If you'd seen the forecast you'd know, we got snowed in. Hence I'm late back. Shame I should fucking enjoy myself. I might have known you lot would need your arses wiped. For fucks sake!"   
"Where's the lovely Sam? We tried to get hold of her to find out where you were, but there was no reply, kept going to voicemail." Ollie raised an enquiring eyebrow.   
"How the fuck should I know? I'm her boss, not her nursemaid. What she does on her days off is none of my affair. She's probably in a spa somewhere with her boyfriend.....if she's got one.....I gave her the weekend off. She fucking deserved it! Always at my beck and call." Malcolm kept his back to his colleague, sorting pointlessly through papers and fiddling with his bag.   
"Nah.....she hasn't got a boyfriend. I don't think blokes are her thing." Ollie replied with a grimace of distaste.  
"What the fuck's that supposed to mean." Malcolm rounded on him defensively.   
"Well, all the blokes have asked her out, but she always says, 'no, I'm spoken for'.....my mate Gary thinks she's a dyke." He giggled childishly.   
"Oh right.....that confirms it then! Just because she's impervious to yours and your tosser mate's charms! Why am I even having this conversation? You're all a bunch of Poxbridge wankers, she's a woman of taste.....she wouldn't look twice at any of you!"   
Ollie offered no further comment, but headed for the door, pausing as he reached it.   
"Flights are booked. We're leaving shortly." He smirked.  
"Lucky I've got a suit in my office and clean keks in my bag then isn't it?" Malcolm gave a scowl.   
"What's this meeting in aid of anyway....? And how long are we staying?" He slammed the door of the hanging cupboard in his office, as he retrieved the suit, and a carry case.   
"EU representatives, talking about the refugee crisis, and Songat Camp. Then tomorrow and the next day talks with other Foreign Ministers about Border patrols, EU migrants and terrorist threats. It's all been hastily arranged. The French are throwing their toys out of the pram over this business of terrorist groups supposedly recruiting from the camps at Calais. Then smuggling them into the UK. So we're having friendly talks over tea and bikkies.......or croissants and coffee.....whichever you prefer. The PM didn't want to send a representative, thought it showed more clout to go himself.......and for that, you are indispensable. He needs you to write him a speech, to address the committee. You'll just have to get yourself up to speed on the flight."   
Malcolm huffed.  
"I know what's expected of me you mincing toe rag. I don't need you to tell me how to do my fucking job. Now fuck off.....I need to make some calls." 

Malcolm ferreted in his desk drawer for his passport and gathered together phone, Blackberry and any other things he felt he needed.  
He half hoped there'd be a text from Sam, but there was nothing.  
The whole weekend idea had been a mistake, he was convinced of that now, and it had turned into a fiasco. He fluffed a hand through his hair in frustration.   
What had possessed him?  
A moment of weakness.......no. He'd wanted to ask her, it was something he'd put off for a long time, he'd been attracted to her for a while, denied it to himself, thinking she'd never even consider him. Why should she? Turned out, she more than considered him, she liked him too. He thought about Ollie's words. She told him she was spoken for, refused everyone else's advances. Yet she agreed to come away with him in a heartbeat.   
Sam wasn't a child. How old was she? Early thirties? At least fifteen years younger than he, and yet, he seemed to be what she wanted.   
Malcolm closed his eyes for a moment. He felt so weary.   
Memories of the morning flooded into his mind. Waking with her. It had been a long time since he'd woken up with someone curled against him like that. How good did it feel? His groin stirred slightly at the recollection.  
Could they make this work?   
His whole heart told him he had to try. Whatever the consequences. The risk he'd be taken for a ride again. Fuck it.....he couldn't be more broken than he already was. What the fuck did he have to lose?  
He'd lost everything already. His life, his dignity, his pride.....why not his heart and mind too?

He punched in his passcode, then started texting rapidly.

"Sam. I'm on my way to fucking Brussels. With Reeder. I'll be away a few days. Sorry I'm such a cunt. I DO know what I want. It's you. It's the reason I asked you to come away. But I got scared, because I'm a dick and I've got a ton of stuff in my head I need to work out. Can we talk when I get back? Please? M.xxx" 

His finger hovered over the 'delete' button. Fuck! Should he send her that? What would she make of it? He puffed out his cheeks. Deliberated a second or two longer.  
Then his door opened and Reeder's head poked through.  
"All set? He said cheerily.  
Malcolm raised his head, nodded, then hit 'send'.

A reply came back almost immediately. 

"I'm sorry too Malcolm. I'm too pushy sometimes. You needed time. We'll talk when you are back. Enjoy Belgium.....and Ollie!! You can text me anytime. I love you. Your Sam. Xxx "

Malcolm glanced at the message, smiled to himself, and pocketed his phone.


	4. Easter Island

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm has to go to Brussels.......he does some serious thinking......

CHAPTER FOUR  
EASTER ISLAND.

 

The Brussels trip was a blur really. Malcolm found it very difficult to focus.   
During the day, he thought about nothing else other than returning home, he thought about Sam almost all the time. Fuck! But he'd got it bad. It was a hell of a long time since he'd been head over heels like this. Probably not since Morag Macpherson when he was at the newspaper, when he was 17!   
Certainly not with any woman since, and that included his ex wife.   
That weird churning in his tummy, heart skipping a beat when he thought of her. Not being able to sleep, or eat....fucking hell!   
In his mind he went over and over their time in Scotland. What a prat he'd been! He must make it up to her, show her he meant it.......not be an idiot.   
He considered her hair, her smile, the scent of her. When she touched him it made him shiver, it made him crazy, because he wanted her so badly. How could he have ever thought he didn't? It was no use, he couldn't resist. No scruples, no misguided attempt at morality, no dignity, he had none, he would fling himself into this......to hell with the consequences.   
He just didn't care any more. 

The flight home was delayed. For fucks sake.   
He hadn't been home since before he went to Scotland, over a week now. It was rare for him to have a night in his own bed these days anyway.   
The others were staying on an extra day. Malcolm just wanted to go home.   
A few phone calls and he was booked on the Eurostar. 

He'd had very little time to contact Sam. The odd brief text was about it. He kept it light, humorous, didn't want to say too much, not until he saw her. She'd kept him abreast of his emails and other appointments for the following week. He was looking beyond that. He wanted to take time off. He wanted to take Sam away....... properly. He didn't like Paris, architecture lovely.....people, stuck up! Venice was lovely but touristy, he liked Vienna and Rome, Florence was wonderful, but the place he fancied was fully booked. The Caribbean was too hot, he wasn't a beach man, or a sun worshipper!   
He hit upon a place he thought might be nice. He wanted sartorial elegance, great service, wonderful cuisine. Chic but not full of trendy wannabes. Somewhere which had a hint of olde worlde charm, classic, but not stuck in a time warp, or filled with pensioners.   
He found just the place, one of the best hotels, once frequented by Churchill, expensive but exclusive, on the island of Madeira. Malcolm had never been there before, but it looked private, cosmopolitan and charming.   
He booked it. 

 

oOo

Samantha Cassidy opened her door at the ring of the bell.   
The tired and crumpled man that stood on her threshold had a thousand different emotions passing across his face all at once.   
She looked into those lapis eyes and saw so many things.   
Apology....because he'd acted like a fool and realised it.   
Bewilderment.....he knew what he was feeling but it was confusing the hell out of him.   
Love......shit, he was in so fucking deep his head was spinning.   
Fear.......because the thought of flinging himself so recklessly into this affair scared the living shit out of him, he was setting himself up to be beaten to a pulp, and there was nothing on Earth he could do about it.   
Hope......did she still want him? And if so why? He was not a catch.....he was an empty husk of fuck and he just had no idea what she saw in him, because he sure as hell didn't see it himself.   
Wonderment......she was so gorgeous, and he fancied her something rotten, shit.....but she was the most lovely thing he'd ever seen, she was a smart cookie too, she had brains, Christ! She could run the country, and whip up a meringue at the same time! 

He tried to put voice to it, but it came out as a sort of desperate ramble.  
"Fuck, Sam......I came straight from Kings Cross.....I haven't been home......I need a shower, I need a shave and I'm hungry.......but.......fuck...........!" He dropped his bag down at his feet, with a resigned shrug.   
Sam gave him what was probably the most winning smile he'd ever seen.  
"Malcolm! Sweetie, come here!"   
She drew him inside and closed the door behind him. 

oOo

A rough tangle of sheets and naked limbs.  
Discarded clothes strewn on the floor.  
Malcolm lay stretched out on his back with his arms above his head in sweet surrender.   
Sam was now occupied by kissing every inch of him, slowly and deliberately. Her lips were as soft as rose petals, touching his skin.   
It drove him completely crazy, so sensual, so delicious. 

It made him feel just so.......wanted! 

Such a sensory overload that his mind ceased to function coherently.   
She began with his ears, then the end of his nose accompanied by a girlish giggle, before capturing his mouth forcefully. Just as quickly she was gone, to his cheek, temple, neck, moving back to his lips a second time. She teased him with her tongue, until he opened for her, then devoured him for a few more glorious seconds. Christ......exquisite torture! Next moment she was moving down his chest, across his nipples, as he cursed under his breath quietly. He could feel her tongue against the softness of his belly, then lower, shit! What was she doing to him? He groaned as he felt her touch on his, now limp, tip, down his shaft, his balls, the insides of his legs. Still wet from the orgasm that pulsed from him a few moments earlier, still sensitive from so recently being inside her.....he'd gone into her unprotected......fuck.....but he hadn't even used a condom, and she hadn't said no when he begged for permission to enter her. Her legs wide for him, inviting him in, he hadn't stopped to think.   
Fuck! He'd never done that before in his life. Out of control. Out of his fucking mind.   
Never been so irresponsible. What if he'd made her pregnant.......right then........fucking hell!   
As if she read his thoughts, she crooned to him.  
"Relax, Malcolm, it's okay! I wouldn't have let you if it wasn't. I'm not quite so foolish. I'm clean, and so are you, and I've taken my own precautions, alright?"   
"Fuck! Yeah.....okay." He breathed, as she continued her kisses. "Can't believe I never even asked. Fuck it all Sam. I feel like I'm going mental. What the fuck's wrong with me?" His chest rose and fell more and more rapidly as she moved her weight over his body, forcing his legs apart, grinding herself against him.   
"It's called love Malcolm." She whispered, as he began to harden again, the touch of her wet cunt against him having the desired effect.   
Reaching down between their bodies, she slid him into her again, and rode him, laying along his chest, her breasts pressed against him, her hair falling over his face.   
"Fuck me!" She murmured. "Fuck me hard Malcolm."   
Bringing his arms around her body he flipped her over onto her back, and pounded into her until she came a second time, the moment caught in her throat, strangled into silence. His own orgasm not so strong as the first time, but no less satisfying for that.   
He lay still, on top of her, exhausted. Completely spent.   
"Bloody hell, Sam. Don't know how long I can keep this pace up! I'm getting too old for this lark!" He puffed.   
"Rubbish! You're still good for twice in a row! That's more than enough for me! Come on, let's nap for a bit.....then I'll make us some dinner.....you must be starving!"   
Malcolm nodded and laughed.   
"I'm so fucking in love with you Sam, yeah? Don't let me fuck this up.....please! Tell me if I'm being a cunt......I seriously fear for my life here, I'm so fucking broken already that if I fink this, I'm done for. You know?" He took a deep juddering breath.   
"You won't fuck up. I've waited a long time for this Malc. Neither of us are going to mess up......we'll make it work. Together. We will. I promise." 

oOo

All the talk in the office and at DoSAC was Malcolm's announcement that he was taking a holiday. No one could quite believe it. Had it been five years? None of them were sure.   
Robyn and Terri dared to tackle him.   
"Where are you going Malcolm? And why the suddenness? Are you going alone?" They chorused.   
He pointedly avoided answering the last part.   
"Not that it's any of your goddam business but I'm going to Easter Island." He gave a wink, Robyn could never quite decide if he was being serious or not. "I'm going to re-chisel all the statue heads into a likeness of Westlife." He quipped.   
Terri persisted, unperturbed.   
"But why now Malcolm? You haven't had a holiday for years."   
"Exactly. That's why I'm fucking taking one now. My weekend in Scotland was fucked up, so I'm going on a proper vacation. I'm saying fuck everything and I'm going away, and I'm going to enjoy myself! I'm not taking my Blackberry and if anything goes tits up I don't want to know.   
I'm sure that Jamie can handle any problems that arise. That's it.....end of story. There's no mystery, no scandal and nothing for the gossip mongers. I'm just fucking off. So don't make it into something it isn't. Okay?"   
He left them still discussing the subject and made his way back to Number Ten. Sam was just packing her handbag when he breezed in.   
"Set?" He asked.  
"Yep. All done. Meetings cancelled, out of office emails sent. All sorted. As far as everyone is concerned, if you are off, then I am too. No point me being here, if you're away." She smiled and brushed her hand lightly against his. A thrill ran right through him, and he looked sharply at her.   
"I'm going home to pack Malcolm.....I'm so excited........pick me up in the morning?"   
His face softened.  
"Yeah. Early. Flight's at half seven. You're still coming then?" He chanced a shy smile.  
"You bet your boots I am! What do I owe you by the way? For the flight and stuff?" She enquired as she shouldered her bag.  
"Fuck off! Nothing. This trip is on me and my credit card! I'm fucking grateful enough you've agreed to come.....the last thing you're doing is paying for yourself!"   
She frowned, and dropped a little kiss onto his brow, which caused him to glance around guiltily in case someone spotted them.  
"You're a dear! And I don't want you to feel grateful! I'm coming with you because it's what I want more than anything in the world! Time alone......with you. Where are we going? You haven't said. Is it somewhere exotic? I need to know what to pack."   
"I'm not saying. But it's warmish, low seventies, cooler maybe after dark, and you need something posher for the evening."   
Sam rubbed her hands together with glee.  
"Ooooo! I can't wait!" She giggled. 

 

oOo

Sam was up early and had gone down to reception in search of a newspaper. The Malcolm that crossed the foyer to meet her was unrecognisable. In a motif t shirt and Bermuda style shorts. Flip flops. Sunglasses.   
She couldn't disguise her smile.  
"What?" He asked crossly, glancing down at himself.   
"Where's Malcolm Tucker and what have you done with him?" She laughed.   
"Ha fucking ha!" 

Apparently Malcolm Tucker on holiday, was not the same man who turned up to work at Number Ten Downing Street.   
This Malcolm smiled for starters! 

They wandered into Funchal. The main town, through little winding streets, cobbled in patterns of grey and white. Narrow and pretty. Tiny shops, a craft market of small stalls, their wares, table cloths and linen, hanging on display, waving in the breeze, little cafes with chairs and tables outside. The air warm and pleasant. They held hands.   
Sam looked down at their clasped fingers, almost in astonishment, then up at Malcolm's face. Normally so painfully self conscious, now seemingly without a care in the world.   
"What's the matter?" He asked, following her gaze.  
"You! This!" She replied, raising their joined hands.  
"It's okay isn't it?" He said, suddenly concerned.   
"Malcolm....... of course it's okay......it's absolutely and totally okay.......I love it!" 

They explored the old cathedral. He surprised her again, by lighting a candle, and kneeling for a few moments, as if in prayer. Tears came to her eyes and she had to turn away quickly.   
"Never had you down as being religious!" She muttered.  
"I'm not! Not anymore. But once........well, I was an altar boy once......back in the day. Irish Catholic, way back. My granny was. Just wanted to say thanks........doesn't matter if there's no one there, or if there is......just wanted to tell them thank you. That's all." He shrugged, embarrassed.   
He squeezed his arm warmly.

Stepping outside into the dappled sunshine again, they found a little cafe with a small group playing outside. Two guitarists and a man beating time on an old speaker amp. Portuguese guitar, it was beautiful, and they were good, fucking good. Malcolm and Sam stopped a while to listen, sip a cappuccino. Her arm linked through his, head against his shoulder.   
From time to time Sam noticed Malcolm give a puff, through his mouth, almost a sigh, or a sound of relief, or disbelief, she wasn't sure which.   
"You okay?" She asked, after about the fourth time.  
He looked at her, his glance was shy. Almost shamefaced.   
"Fuck Sam. We're here. You're here. On holiday. With me. Fuck! Still trying to get my head round it!"  
She kissed him by way of reply.

oOo

Later they went swimming. Or rather Sam went swimming while Malcolm watched from a sun bed. After glimpsing her in her bikini, Malcolm flatly refused to get up. Sitting, arms folded across his chest, a towel across his lower half.   
When she emerged, glistening, from the water, his glance was so salacious that she couldn't suppress a smile.   
"I'm going to shower upstairs. Coming?" She grinned.   
He nodded sheepishly. 

He only just made it back to the room. 

"Fuck me Sam! I've got a permanent hard on! This is ridiculous!" He was on her as soon as the door closed behind them.   
Kissing, fumbling, his hands everywhere. Unable to control himself. Leaking pre cum before she'd so much as touched him.   
So turned on was he that it really was a mighty quick affair.  
There wasn't much time for foreplay or niceties, he was spilling himself inside her in moments, swearing and apologising in equal measure.   
"Shit! Christ Sam, I'm so sorry. Like a fucking hormonal teenager! This is what you've reduced me to. Almost creaming my pants! For fucks sake."  
"Malcolm......I doesn't matter! Not one bit. Don't get upset. I'm glad I turn you on so much. We can do it again later! It's fine!" She caressed his face tenderly.   
"Fuck, Sam. You just drive me to distraction. I can't concentrate on anything else! My knob is getting carried away!"   
Sam laughed.   
"Clean yourself up, and come and have a swim with me! Hopefully now you won't get an erection inside your swimming trunks!" 

He did as she bade him.   
Sam watched him, amused, as he walked from the sun lounger to the pool.   
'Look at him!' She thought. So gauche. Awkward. So body aware.   
Yet he was skinny, there wasn't an ounce of fat on him. He was in surprisingly good shape. Deathly pale though. Almost transparent. Pale pink nipples, a smattering of chest hair, a line going south down his navel. Blue swimming shorts. Thick legs, not very hairy. Big feet. Hairy toes.   
He swam well. Confidently. Head under. His hair darker when it was wet.   
Blowing a spout of water as he surfaced. 

She loved every last inch of him. 

As darkness fell they sat on the terrace. With a margarita. Sipping through the salty ring, a band was playing from somewhere behind them.   
He'd caught the sun a little during the day, a slight pink tinge to his face, the bridge of his nose, but he looked so relaxed, and so very happy.   
Open necked shirt, linen trousers. Freshly shaven. A dash of after shave, he smelled divine.   
They looked out across the water, moonlight rippling in a silver trail from the harbour and out to sea.   
A ceaseless sound of the waves, crashing on to the volcanic rock below.   
Thousands of small orange lights dotting the hillside opposite where they sat. Hundreds of twinkling stars in the velvety sky above. 

Sam gave a deep sigh.   
"Malcolm, this is just so perfect. So romantic. Thank you." She beamed.   
He turned to her then, and her heart almost stopped.   
His face.   
What was that?   
There were tears in his eyes. She could see them. Balanced precariously on his lashes.   
She leaned over and touched her cheek to his, bringing her thumb along the line of his cheekbone, first one side, then the other. Letting her lips touch his gently.   
"Don't cry." She whispered. "I love you Malcolm Tucker." 

He couldn't reply.   
Just leaned into her touch, inclining his head slightly into her hand. Breaking apart only when the waiter came to tell them their table was ready.   
The restaurant looked over the entire harbour. It was the most stunning view.   
They ate facing each other. She reaching across the table with a forkful of her starter for him to try, a hand under the morsel as she popped it into his mouth. He offering her some of his, laughing together, as some went down her chin, and he dabbed it with his own napkin.   
"Messy pup!"   
"It was you! You missed my mouth!" She retorted, giggling. 

Afterwards, he led her onto the dance floor. She'd had experience of his prowess at this at the Christmas bash, it was another time he'd surprised her. An accomplished dancer. Firmly held, splayed fingers placed in the centre of her back, the other hand holding hers clutched close to his chest.   
Swaying together.   
"You're the most beautiful woman in the room!" He murmured, close to her ear. "And you're with me! How fucking lucky am I ?" 

That night there was no premature ejaculation. Just a slow and sensual love making experience. Passionate and deep. The love that poured out of Malcolm, both physically and mentally, was profound and sincere.   
He was lost. Head over heels.  
Nothing would ever be the same for him again.


	5. You've Begun to Unfuck Your Life.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malcolm on holiday is a revelation......

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, as you can probably guess.....I've been on holiday!!!

CHAPTER FIVE  
YOU'VE BEGUN TO UNFUCK YOUR LIFE.

 

In the morning they breakfasted on their balcony.   
They were both ravenous.   
The rest of the morning was spent exploring the botanical gardens. A lush tropical paradise. Banana trees, bird of paradise flowers, hibiscus and bright purple Bougainvillea. Coal black Orioles flitted and twittered among the waxy leaves. Metal pergolas held dangling bell shaped blooms, and succulent cacti gave shelter to tiny lizards, which scuttled amongst the prickles.   
Malcolm wore a Panama to protect his head from the warm sun, and Sam a straw hat with a wide brim, a floaty film of scarf around her neck.   
They walked along the narrow pathways, his arm clamped around her shoulder, hers around his back, her fingers tucked into his belt. 

Togetherness. 

Their talk easy. No uncomfortable moments. Their silences were companionable ones. Wandering, without destination and without conscious thought.

After an hour they came across a little vendor cart selling lemonade. Not the sweet fizzy stuff they sell at home, containing enough sugar to rot tooth enamel at ten paces, but homemade citron pressè, from a cooler. It was cold, sharp, and refreshing.  
Under the shade of an enormous acacia, they sat shoulder to shoulder looking out to sea. Pale blue islands floated there, some way offshore, in a haze of sparkling sunshine almost like a mirage. Peaceful.   
Like being in the midst of a tranquil dream, where one woke, not troubled and angst ridden, but rested and fresh. 

"I've just realised something." Malcolm mused serenely as he shaded his eyes against the bright sun.  
"Mmm?" Sam leaned into him and took his hand.  
"I haven't checked the TV, the newspaper, anything. I haven't got a clue what's going on at home." He looked down at her then, placing a finger under her chin, he raised her face to his and kissed her gently.   
"And you know what else?" He continued sleepily.   
"Tell me......"   
"I don't fucking care! To hell with them. This is what I want. Right here. Now. This!" His mouth closed over hers again, and they sunk into each other, a blissful, long smooch. Separating only when they had to surface for air. 

oOo

Laying face down. Head in the hole at the top of the treatment bed.   
A towel over his nether regions. 

The waistband of his swim shorts folded down.   
This had been Sam's idea. She said it would do him good. He wasn't so sure. Massage wasn't in Malcolm's purview.   
He felt uncomfortable with a stranger touching him......he was nervous, jittery.   
Malcolm tried to concentrate on the feeling of the masseuse's hands as they moved up his back, fanning out across the shoulder blades and then back down.   
Actually, maybe he could get used to this.   
Yes.....it felt nice. He was enjoying it. 

His back cracked alarmingly......fucking hell.......he felt like he'd been hit by a rhinoceros......but gradually, she ironed out the lumps.

Fucking bliss.

Sam was elsewhere. Having some hot stones placed on her, or some seaweed scrub or shit.......whatever......he didn't know......didn't ask.   
He didn't want to think about anything to do with Sam right now, especially thoughts of her being partly or wholly undressed. Nothing to do with rubbing or massaging her, quite frankly, amazing body.   
The fact he was laying on his man parts was just as fucking well. The last thing he wanted was to have to turn over. Not right at this moment anyway. 

Malcolm couldn't remember ever feeling so horny. Truth was he wasn't sure if he still had it in him.....it was pleasant and rather a triumph to find that he most definitely still had.   
Certain bits of him hadn't had this much use for a very long time. It was comforting to know it all still worked. He hadn't heard any complaints so far anyway.   
If Sam wanted him......he was up for it.......literally! 

It appeared she categorically and most definitely WAS, often. Who was he to deny her?   
She actually, really did fancy him. Thought he was attractive. Liked his body. Liked him. Wanted him even. A lot. Un-be-fucking-lievable! 

Stop thinking about sex Malcolm! Concentrate on the massage.  
The masseuse reached a particularly tight sinewy area, on his left shoulder. He groaned. The feeling of popping bubble wrap under the skin. 

"You have a lot of tension Mr Tucker!" 

Pop, pop, pop.......shit! It was painful but almost in a good way. He groaned again.   
Tried to refocus his thoughts.  
Lying here he could hear the sea. The relentless sounds of waves breaking on the rocks below the window. From somewhere there were also cries of seabirds, soothing music, whale song.   
Whale song?  
Who went to sleep to the sound of whale song? Other whales perhaps, but not him. Thank god it wasn't pan pipes. Malcolm did not find Peruvian folk music either relaxing nor therapeutic. 

Backs of his calves......fuck......so sore. He'd been on the exercise bike earlier.   
What the fuck had possessed him?   
Under the erroneous illusion that he should attempt to get himself fit. If he was going to entertain a woman seventeen years younger than himself, he had a duty to look after himself. Sam was vaguely annoyed with him.  
"You don't have to prove anything to me Malcolm! How strong and fit you are. How many times you can do it, or how long you can keep it up! Okay? Just be you. That's all I ask. You're in pretty good shape. You look after yourself. You could eat and sleep more but.....well.....kinda goes with the territory in your job." 

It did. Malcolm mused. As hands moved slowly up to his thigh muscles. He'd lost more weight recently. His suit trousers were loose. 

He began to fall away. Thoughts melding into nothingness. 

Just the sound of the waves, washing over him, washing over his wank of a life. He hadn't spared a single thought for Jamie, or DoSAC, or Tom, or any of the other useless tossers, that made his existence a living hell.   
Slipping into forgetfulness. 

Floating.

The sensation that his body was somehow detached. Heavy as lead, and yet his head felt light. He was drifting. His breathing deepened. 

Hardly noticing her turning him over, placing something cool across his eyes, rubbing down his arms and hands, palms and fingers. Limbs so limp, he could barely raise them.   
Fuck but that felt so good.   
Under the blindfold he could see colours imprinted on his retinas. Prisms, like he was inside the kaleidoscope he'd had for Christmas as a kid. 

Then exposing his stomach. Shit....they massaged your tummy too? Okay, that felt weird......fortunately not for very long.  
Around his neck and collarbones. Much more like it.   
Pop, pop, pop......more aching and tightness. More lactic acid. 

It was over. He was given a glass of water.   
The girl sat him up slowly.   
Fuck, but he felt really odd. Emotional. Like he'd been taken outside himself. 

He wanted to see Sam. 

Now. 

He flopped through into the changing room in his robe and slippers. When he came out she was waiting, in the foyer.  
Fuck!   
She looked bloody amazing! The smile she gave him when she set eyes on him made him feel so fucking strange. 

"Wow!" She said softly, taking his hand. "You look like the cares of the world have been lifted. Crikey! Ten years younger!"   
He gave her a shy smile in return. Allowed her to lead him by the hand she held so gently.   
Upstairs to their room. 

Glancing in the mirror, he barely recognised himself.   
That pinched look which he habitually wore, was gone. No furrowing of his brow. The corners of his mouth breaking into a slight smile.   
Suddenly he felt very weary. 

Sam came and stood behind him. Threaded her arms around his front. Rested her head against his back.   
"Isn't this perfect?" She whispered.   
He placed his hands over hers, clasping them to him. 

"I never felt like this in my life before Sam. Never. Not when I was younger, not when I married. Not ever. I feel like I'm in some kind of drug induced coma, and I'm gonna fucking wake up.....and you're not gonna be here, and it's not real. I feel so weird. I don't know what the fuck is happening to me."

"It is pretty fantastic.......even I'm not entirely sure it's actually happening either. I know it's special though. And it's wonderful. I know that." 

"Lie with me Sam. Just lie. Hold me close, yeah? I feel like my feet aren't on solid ground. Like I'm gonna fall. I'm scared as fuck, and I keep feeling like I wanna blub. It almost happened again earlier. I don't seem to be able to control it. It's like I'm a different person. Fuck knows why. But you're about the only thing that's keeping me grounded right now." 

She pulled him to the bed, and curled up beside him, her arms around him, his head against her breast.   
"Rest Malcolm. I'll be here when you wake up. Sleep for a bit. It'll make you feel better."

He was gone as soon as his head hit the pillow. Deep, deep sleep. Dreamless and restorative.   
The first thing his eyes saw when he opened them again, was her lovely face smiling down at him.   
"You look so beautiful when you're asleep." She whispered, placing a kiss on his lips.   
"Dunno what it's all about, this napping in the daytime lark! Never done it before in my life!" He replied, with a laugh.   
"Fancy some lunch? I'm hungry." 

Malcolm sat up and yawned. "Yeah. Starving!"   
He felt like he'd been reborn. A new life. Starting here, starting now. 

It was fucking wonderful. 

 

oOo

Afternoon tea was a decadent ritual at this hotel. Like at The Ritz or Claridges.   
Had to be done.  
The tea was served on an open terrace, framed with fragrant flowers and greenery, the tables covered with crisp white tablecloths, napkins and silver cutlery. The whole balcony overlooked the bay, with the sparkling blue sea and the little harbour stretching away beneath them.  
A pianist played just inside. Tinkling away in the background.   
Old fashioned fifties style wicker chairs, with deep cushions, the waiters dressed tails and white gloves. It was like stepping back in time. 

Sam wore a smart floral linen dress, her hair up in an elegant bun. Malcolm was in jacket and tie. She walked in ahead of him, his hand placed protectively on her back, she drew stares of admiration from other diners.   
How proud was he, as he pulled out her chair for her to sit down, before taking his own seat opposite her? She, however had eyes only for him, giving him adoring glances, every so often, as they talked and ate.   
Fuck, but he was in seventh heaven! 

Malcolm sat eyeing the little porcelain cake stand with malicious intent. It was well known he had a sweet tooth, and a whole plethora of delicious confectionary was too much to let pass by.  
They sipped champagne, then shared a pot of Earl Grey, finger sandwiches, scones with cream and jam, finishing with various cakes and buns.   
Sam sat back in her seat with a puff.  
"I'm stuffed!" She breathed. "Malcolm, you have cream on your lip!"   
She reached forward and with the corner of her napkin she wiped it gently away. "Such a big kid!" She giggled. She was completely oblivious to the disapproving looks she was receiving.  
"I reckon these people think I'm your Dad." Malcolm remarked, giving a blazing glare at the clientele around him. Sam glanced about her with a frown.   
"Well, we can't have them thinking that!" Her voice was very slightly louder than it needed to be. Waiting until she was sure there were many eyes upon her, she reached forwards a second time and placed a far from chaste kiss on Malcolm's mouth.   
"You look so handsome, lover!" She smiled sweetly.   
Malcolm suddenly felt a million dollars. Fuck the lot of them! The other diners kept their heads well down after that. 

oOo

Days melted into each other.   
Sunshine. Joy. Love. Balmy nights. An awful lot of sex!   
Sam couldn't believe the transformation in this man who was her boss. He looked well........fit and healthy, not gaunt and pasty. His demeanour was softer. Controlled. Calm and relaxed. 

Malcolm took to partaking of an early morning swim.   
Ploughing up and down, he would do thirty or forty lengths. Emerging, towelling off, then joining Sam for breakfast, either on their balcony or on the breakfast terrace. 

They hired a jeep, drove round the Island. Exploring. 

Time seemed to pass quickly.   
Malcolm knew one thing for certain.

He didn't want to go home! 

It was inevitable, but he didn't welcome it, not one bit.

On their last night, he lay in Sam's arms and gave a sigh.  
"Back to reality tomorrow!" She whispered.   
"Yeah. Back to the fuck office!" He groaned. "Don't wanna go! I like being this Malcolm Tucker."   
"Me too! I like you being my man!" She dropped a kiss on the top of his head.  
"Fuck! Is that what I am? I'm your man?" He turned in her embrace so that he could look at her, questioning, always unsure.  
"Absolutely! No escape now! I like having you all to myself!" She laughed.  
"The thought of being with that fucking DoSAC crowd, and the knob ends at Number Ten! I'd rather poke pins in my eyes! So sick of it all!"   
"You could give it all up. Go freelance. You're always moaning about how much you hate your job! Why not start up your own consultancy? I could be your PA in a million! The Robin to your Batman!" 

Malcolm stayed silent for a few moments. Then sat up suddenly and violently, almost pushing her off the bed.  
"Fucking hell Sam! I could! I fucking could! Jesus! Are you serious? You'd work with me like that.......be with me?"   
"Always, Malcolm. Right by your side. Thick and thin. You're never getting rid of me now, no matter what. You're stuck with me. Told you.....I love you, I want nothing else."   
He flung his arms around her, hauling her close, peppering her with dozens of little kisses.   
"FUCK! Sam! I'm gonna do it! If you're fucking with me.......and you really mean it.......I'm gonna do it!" He was boyish, excited, animated beyond reason.   
"I'm with you Malcolm. All the way." She smiled at him, and he felt in another moment he would explode. 

"I fucking love you! And the day I asked you on that stupid fucking weekend in Scotland, is the best days work I've ever done! Thank you Sam. I think you may just have saved my miserable fucking hide! Fuck! I could crow from the rooftops! I don't know what to say!"   
He breathed in and out rapidly, flushed with happiness.   
Sam held on to him tight.

"I can think of a better way for you to thank me!" She murmured with an impish raise of her eyebrows.  
He looked down at her, and it dawned.  
"Hell yeah!"he said gleefully. "Get your kit off woman! The new Malcolm Tucker is going to fuck you till you scream!" 

He buried his face into her chest, growling like a wild animal, amid shrieks of laughter from her, and mock cries for mercy. Soon begging for more. 

Their last day, but the first day of a new beginning........for both of them. 

 

Fin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the prompt Petersgal. It turned into quite an epic!! Xxx


End file.
